Bring Him Home
by FoxyGrampaGlasses
Summary: If only Mihashi had known, he could never score without a home. When his ball cracked against Abe's mitt, he finally understood. ftm!Mihashi.
1. Prelude

**Prelude - _No Home to Run  
_**

* * *

Ren hadn't meant to lie, and in all actuality he _hadn't_.

He approached the baseball field on wobbly knees, trying desperately to stuff angry images of his old teammates to the back of his mind as he unknowingly prepared himself for his first encounter with the people that would end up being the best thing to ever happen to him. He was nervous, he was _always_ nervous, but later when he thought back on this moment, he was sure he wasn't nearly nervous enough.

"This is a boys' baseball team, you're not fooling anyone."

Ren clutched a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming. He tumbled around on his feet until he was facing a much taller boy, beanie clad and towering over Ren's trembling body. He was too petrified to look around, but could hear the shuffling of other students. Every part of him was tensed to the max, but he still found his voice amidst all of it, curling his fingers into tiny fists against his chin.

"I-I-I'm a boy!" He stuttered, stamping his foot down stubbornly.

"A girl couldn't get away with wearing a boy's uniform, Hanai, don't be a _dick_." Another student said as he approached, coming to Ren's aid. Ren wheezed, moving his hands from his mouth to his chest. This was too close, this was too scary, one wrong word and they'd all know. It would be Mihoshi all over again, and he'd done everything he could leave that in the past.

Ren couldn't help the way he sucked in his stomach and pushed all the air out of his chest.

Hanai had every right to be angry, of course, but it made the truth impossible to spit out as a whole, and instead Ren spoke in shakey, broken, half-truths. He was a bad pitcher put in a good place by favoritism. He thought it would be fine, it would be enough to convince this team they didn't want him.

But it wasn't.

It had taken all his courage to tug on Momo-kan's sleeve the first day of golden week, nervously gesturing her away from everyone loading the bus for the trip to the training camp grounds. Momoe was obviously perplexed, a bit of anger shining in her eyes. She was in no mood for a half-hearted pitcher. Ren just snapped his eyes shut and kept tugging her farther away from the group, he had to say it now, before she let him on the bus, before it was too late.

"Alright, Mihashi-kun, what is it?" She asked, pulling her arm from Ren's grasp and setting her hands on her wide hips. Ren stared, jaw trembling, eyes glossed with unshed tears.

He didn't know how to say it. He tried, sputtering incoherent syllables until he finally gave up. Tears poured down his rosey cheeks as he dug out his ID card, shoved it into his coach's hands.

"I-I can't-I'm n-not-_!_" Ren hiccupped, scrubbing at his eyes. For an eternity, all he could hear was the pounding of his breaking heart and wet sniffing of his runny nose. Momoe's voice smashed into his head like her clean swing of a baseball bat, home run.

"Mihashi-_kun_." She spoke very deliberately, waiting for Ren to raise his eyes. "I want to ask you, what bathroom do you use?"

Ren's lips trembled, wrapped around the word 'mens'. Momoe nodded, a bright smile on her face.

"And what did you say to Hanai just the other day when he tried to suggest you were a girl?" She asked. Ren bit his lip, shoulders tight.

"I-I'm a boy!" He said, teeth snapping shut, small fingers curled into tight fists. Momoe nodded, pressing Ren's ID card back into his hands. There was a beat of silence, her smile fell, she crossed her arms.

"However, you need to tell your team." She said. Ren's blood turned ice cold.

"T-Tell…I-I…" He shook his head, gripping the fabric over his chest. Momoe sighed.

"You won't be happy if they find out themselves. Maybe it happens during a game? What would you do then? Do you want to risk costing us a game because you can't be honest with your teammates?" She patted Ren on the shoulder, flashing him a sympathetic smile. "We play Mihoshi on Saturday, tell them before then."

* * *

Ren didn't mean to lie, but in actuality, this time he did.

He just couldn't say it to Abe's face, that lying next to so many boys, boys that seemed like men in comparison to himself, made it impossible to sleep. He didn't know the words that could explain how his eyelids snapped open whenever he thought he might fall asleep, subconsciously desperate to run from the nightmares of his former teammates festering in the back of his mind. There was too much Abe didn't know, wouldn't understand.

Ren wasn't like the rest of the people here.

He held himself like a well beaten circus beast, trained and broken and afraid of everything, especially himself. Mihoshi had taught him his place well as a thing to be mocked and danced around, a _spectacle_. The last thing he wanted to do was confront his abusers, people he still yearned to call friends, even if he himself knew that was ridiculous. He wasn't ready. He couldn't sleep. Everything he ate tasted like sand and he was so, so, _so_ sorry.

Sorry Abe. Sorry Hanai. Sorry Momo-kan. Sorry Hatake. Sorry Kanou. Sorry Mihoshi. Sorry Mother. Sorry Father. Sorry God.

Ren was careful to hide his binder when he got ready for bed, careful to hunch his back as far as it could go and fold his arms over his chest. He was quick to slip under the sheets and quicker to tug them over his shoulders. He let out a deep breath every time he made it passed wandering eyes. He wasn't used to this, didn't ever want to get used to it. He shouldn't have to deal with this, no one should.

But Ren knew his place, and this was simply the game he had to play if he wanted to survive.

There was nothing more he wanted than to pitch, but not even pitching was worth living through the horrors of Mihoshi again. He pulled the sheets over his head, curled up tight.

Even if it killed him, Ren would tell them tomorrow. He trusted his team to do the right thing, to kick him out before it was too late.

* * *

The silence that followed Ren's interruption at the dining table was absolutely _suffocating_. He twisted his hands into the hem of his shirt. He could feel his pulse in every inch of his body, in his head, his fingertips, deep in his stomach.

"_Mihashi_." Abe's gruff voice shook Ren out of his stupor in all the wrong ways. His lips trembled, and he tried so hard to keep the tears at bay, though he knew it was no use.

"I'm-" He coughed, sniffed, took a shakey breath. "I'm. N-Not like you g-g-_guys_." He said. Hanai frowned, Abe looked just as angry, everyone else had passive patience on their faces.

"We already _knew_ that." Abe said, motioning for Ren to continue.

"N-No, I mean, n-not like you…you think." Ren shook his head, eyes squeezed shut. "I'm!" He didn't realize he was shouting. "M-M-My teammates…h-hated me! Because!" Ren couldn't breathe, he was drowning in his own tears. His voice broke there, and all that came out was a defeated whisper.

"I'm n-not…a boy, n-n-not like…you guys." He said. Hanai looked around, confused and annoyed.

"Like what?" He smirked. "You trying to tell us you're a _girl_ now?"

Ren's eyes snapped open, tears dripping from his eyes. He couldn't look up, all of his protests were stuck in his dry, aching throat. Hanai slapped his hands down on the table.

"What, _really_?" He yelled, threw his head in Momo-kan's direction. "Did you know about this?"

Momoe sat still for a moment, registering the expressions around the table, all ranging from shocked to angry to indifferent. She nodded.

"I knew, and encouraged him to tell you all so it wouldn't be a surprise later on, Mihashi-kun." She said. Ren jumped, instinct driving his watery eyes to meet Momoe's. Her smile was delightfully kind. "You did well."

"Don't you mean _she?_" Hanai corrected, his fingertips white from gripping the table. Momoe shook her head firmly.

"Mihashi-kun is a he and I won't tolerate you referring to him in any other way, Hanai-kun." She said, lips set in a straight line. A hush fell over the table, the air tense.

"I don't understand…" Hanai muttered, the other boys nodding in agreement. Momoe caught Ren's eyes as she softly asked if she could explain for him. He nodded enthusiastically, please oh please. Momoe nodded back, drawing attention to herself.

"Mihashi-kun is a boy, you will use male pronouns with him. He was, however, pronounced a female at birth. Any questions more personal than that are none of your business unless Mihashi-kun makes it your business," Momoe's eyebrows dropped into a frightening glare. "Do you all _understand?"_ She hissed.

The unanimous nodding of heads brought a smile back to Momoe's lips and she stood. "Good, then it's time to clean up and head to bed. We only have a few days left until we play Mihoshi!"

Ren was certain he wasn't the only one thinking it, _he can't stay on the team_, but Momo-kan barreled ahead and left no time for absurd questions.

* * *

Ren shriveled as his former catcher's cleats ground against the brick wall beside his head.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing? You think you're going to _pitch_ for them?" He asked, voice cold. Ren tucked himself in the tightest ball he could, nothing but broken sobs and shuddering gasps leaving him. Hatake bent down. "You're nothing but a bitch Mihashi-_chan_, stop ruining baseball for everyone. Just because you're at a new school doesn't change that you're a _girl_, have you even told them?" A humorless laugh left Hatake's lips.

"I should have broken your arm back then, but Kanou for whatever reason really liked you, wouldn't let any of us touch his precious Mihashi-chan. I kept telling him if he'd just give you a good lay maybe you'd leave-"

"Mihashi?" Abe's voice cut through the rustling bushes and stomped down on anything more Hatake had to say. He apologized, a polite façade back in place on his face, and disappeared.

Ren had wanted to avoid this so badly he'd told everyone his secret, but even that hadn't been enough to get him away from Mihoshi. And here his past was, crushing whatever little confidence he'd built over the week.

Hatake was right.

Ren couldn't pitch, for anyone. He was a disability, a handicap, he was something to work around. There was no point to him putting his all into pitching if all it did was make everyone else miserable. There was no point in living as a boy if no one ever acknowledged him as one. There was no point there was no-

Trembling fingers wrapped around one of Ren's hands.

With tears in his eyes, Abe tugged on Ren's hand. "This is what you've been dealing with, it's-" Abe shook his head, rubbed his thumb over his eyes. "It's no wonder you're so nervous all the time." His breath hitched, their eyes locked. Abe's fingers caressed the hard callouses around Ren's hands. "You've worked so hard, and they-they don't even see you as a _person!_"

Ren hiccupped, curled his fingertips around Abe's. "You…y-y-you…see me as a p-person?" He asked. A fire burned in Abe's eyes.

"Of course I do! I see you as more than that I-" Abe lost his breath as he forced the words out. "I see you as a teammate, I see you as another _boy!_"

Abe promised then and there, for Ren's sake and no one else's, Abe would make him a true ace.

* * *

_Author's Notes-_

I am back with _more_ trans fanfiction heyo. I have a horribly vague idea of how this will go, and it'll be a lot different than my ftm!Nitori fic if you've read that. I think it's mostly due to the difference in character. Nitori is...nervous, but Mihashi is _anxious_ and there's a big difference between those two things. I have a feeling this fic will have a much more scattered feeling to it. It's going to be fun writing from Mihashi's perspective, as we both share some significant social anxiety (and in this fic, we're both trans). The chapters to come will flow better than this one, I just didn't want to rewrite every little detail of those first couple epsiodes. You guys get the idea of what happens, it's not important.

OH also I wanted to mention. I try to write as authentically to the canon location/culture as best I can, _however_, I have not had much luck in finding translated Japanese laws that are relevant to what I write. In these cases, I tend to use what I know of America's laws, just because, that's all I have. I know a lot of countries share the same kind of laws, so it's the best I can do for now. As far as I know, at the highschool level, most places do not have laws that allow or punish transgender students playing on teams that match their gender identity. Because of this, whether a transgender student gets to play on that team is entirely circumstantial and depends greatly on their community. SO, that is how I'm going to be dealing with the legality of this.

If you are a transgender student wanting to participate in a sports team that matches your identity, I know in America there are a few things you can do to make it happen and be protected legally. If you're interested in that, I may, _MAY_ be able to help point you in the right direction. Maybe.

So yeah hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I'll try to get the next one up in a couple days, we'll see how things go. Let me know what you thought of it!

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


	2. Strong Vocabulary

**Chapter 1 - _Strong Vocabulary_**

* * *

Mihashi had been so panicked the first day his teammates ate lunch with him he couldn't speak, not so much as a stutter.

"So how'd you do on that math test, Tajima?" Izumi asked, taking the seat in front of Mihashi. Tajima fell into the chair across them, rubbing a hand over the back of his head.

"Decent!" He laughed. Izumi squinted, holding his hand out. Tajima stared at the offered hand, hesitating and then slapping it.

"What the fuck Tajima, no, show me the test!" Izumi said, jumping up from his chair.

"_Ohhh_, okay."

Izumi fell back into his seat with the test in hand, eyes wide. Mihashi was the only one who seemed to notice the squeaking of the class door sliding open, watching Hanai emerge from behind it. Mihashi followed Hanai as he came to Izumi's side, the batter's brows pinching downward into a frightening glare. Mihashi shook his head, threw his glance to floor, nearly hyperventilating. The only person scarier than Hanai was Abe, and that was saying something.

"Is that _yours?_" Hanai asked, snatching the test from Izumi.

"_Hell_ no." He said, rolling his eyes.

"It's mine!" Tajima yelled, waving his hand above his head. Hanai tensed, snapped his eyes shut, drew in a deep breath. He pressed the test back into Tajima's hand and with a strained voice congratulated the clean-up on his marginally improved score.

Watching his teammates interacting _dazed_ Mihashi. The way Hanai could be so angry and Tajima always laughed it off like it was nothing, or the way Izumi met every situation with apathy. They were all so amazing, so natural, so relaxed. Unspoken and unacknowledged, Mihashi could feel the rift between them and him deepening.

What did all these boys have that Mihashi didn't?

* * *

The answer came to him that night, in the hours between exhaustion and the blessing of sleep.

Mihashi's hair stuck to his pillow, dark from shower water. He closed his eyes on the view of his lumpy chest, but the image was burned onto the insides of his eyelids and he could feel the familiar prickling of tears not yet surfaced.

There were so many things to change, Mihashi didn't know where to start.

It was a question Mihashi had been asking himself since the day he became aware of his body, of his voice, of the fact that there was something _different_ about him in the first place. What did these boys have that he didn't? It haunted his every movement, scratched at the back of his mind. It was something far more internal than the physical. It wasn't Mihashi's predisposition to crying or stuttering. It wasn't even his constant worrying. It most certainly wasn't his body.

All of these things he'd seen in other boys before. Though he often assumed he was alone in the severity of it, he knew he was not the only faint hearted boy in the world. That was not what set him apart from these boys. It was something else entirely.

But hell if Mihashi understood what it was.

I long moment passed, his thoughts swirling in his head, before he bolted upright in bed, eyes trained straight forward into the darkness. A smile spread across his face. "_Hell_ if I know!" he whispered, voice cracking with excitement. "Hell if I know, hell if I know!" He tucked his fists under his chin, his smile achingly wide. It was so _obvious_.

Hell if he knew.

* * *

It rang through the baseball field like nothing should be able to in open air under a perfect blue sky, the entire Nishiura team brought to a standstill.

"_FUCK!"_

The expletive itself had been nothing new in a group of ten teenage boys, but the voice that had carried it out had them all at a loss for words. Said foul mouth was face down in the dirt of the pitcher's mound, drawing wordless stares from all around.

It had been an all too average practice, starting early in the morning with a fifteen minute run. Perhaps the only odd thing about it had been Mihashi's unusually loud chanting when his turn came around. Abe had nearly tripped over himself when that squeaky voice blasted against his head, jittery and broken but loud as hell.

Tajima was the first to recover, leaning on his bat and a hand on his slim hip.

"Woah! Mihashi said _fuck!_" He shouted. Eyes shifted from Mihashi to Tajima, a mixture of relieved and disappointed sighs breaking the spell of silence.

"_Tajima!_" Hanai yelled, fingers twitching around his bat.

Exercising self-control, Hanai managed to get everyone back on task, but he couldn't deny Mihashi's outburst had him a bit curious. As it was, everyone went about practice as usual and by the time Mihashi righted himself, feet firmly planted in the dirt, everything was as it had been.

He tried not to let it get to him, but he thought he'd shouted pretty loud! Had anyone heard him at all? He was left shakey and a bit unstable for the rest of practice, but his balls seemed no worse for wear.

At first Mihashi had panicked, had he done the wrong thing after all? But as the minutes ticked by, balls were thrown and caught. Bats swung, hitting and missing. Mihashi's nervousness was drowned out by the normality of routine. Without even realizing it, Mihashi came to a simple conclusion.

This was perhaps the least angry he'd ever seen his team, not one frown. Like a dog given a treat, or rather, taking a misplaced treat, Mihashi believed he was being rewarded. He hadn't thought it possible, but his personality was surely improving, and his team's lack of response was proof of that!

* * *

As the week continued, Mihashi's swearing became more constant, and more disruptive. The whole team was on edge by Saturday, and Mihashi had begun to notice the downward spiral of unspoken approval in his personality. He found himself in a horrible panic, just _what_ was he doing wrong now?

It all came to a climax when one too many f-bombs were dropped in Momo-kan's presence during their team meeting.

Mihashi was all too aware of Momoe's fiery glare, ignited by pure disapproval. Her hand slammed down on Mihashi's fluffy head of hair and she leaned down to stare eye to teary eye with her pupil. Apologies came pouring out of his mouth much like the tears dribbling down his snotty face, but nothing could quell Momo-kan's wrath.

"Mihashi-kun have you ever tasted soap?" She asked, one corner of her mouth twitching upwards. Mihashi jumped, feet tripping over each other and tears flying about. He shook his head vigorously. Momoe released the pitcher, letting his drop to the ground. "I suggest you clean up your vocabulary if you want to keep it that way." She said, smile nowhere to be seen. Clapping her hands, she ended the meeting and left the boys to speak with Shiga-po off to the side, but no one moved a muscle.

"D-Don't you think that's a little harsh…?" Sakaeguchi whispered. Suyama shrugged, Nishihiro and Oki looked like they might be sick.

"I mean we all swear some but…" Mizutani said under his breath, crossing his arms.

"Are we not allowed to swear?" Tajima asked, rather loudly, drawing Momoe's attention. She might have intervened if the ever responsible captain hadn't stepped in right then. Hanai snatched the cap off his head and slapped Tajima over the head with the brim.

"Swearing isn't the problem here!" Hanai said, exasperated. Tajima made some protest, but Hanai just stared at Mihashi, cowering on the ground. He placed his cap back on his head, sighing.

"It's the frequency of it." Abe said, a deep frown on his face. Tajima didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue. "Mihashi."

Abe's voice, like a bolt of electricity, jumped through Mihashi and broke off his spiraling thoughts. He rubbed at his face, but couldn't bring himself to lift his head. He'd messed up, he'd messed up so bad. He was right after all, he couldn't change, he'd never be better. He'd always be wrong and he'd never know why.

And everyone could see it. They could see it so plainly, the canyon of unspoken nuances dividing Mihashi from them. They could see the curves in Mihashi's sides and the roundness of his jaw, lines that seemed so sharp in Mihashi's eyes. They could pick out every quiver in his voice that sounded steady to him, and map out the pitch miles higher than their own. Mihashi knew it was all there, but could never, would never, see it himself. And that was why he wouldn't ever change.

"_Mihashi_." Abe said, ever so slightly louder. Mihashi's shoulders twitched and his breath hitched and his palms pressed into his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to be invisible. "Just tell us why you've been swearing so much hah? What in the world do you think you're trying to prove?"

Mihashi's eyes snapped up to meet Abe's, his mouth hung open, words tickling his heavy tongue, fingers digging into the dirt. Abe glared, only further confused by Mihashi's sudden response, but Tajima nodded his head, unphazed.

"_Ohh!_" Tajima said, jumping down to the ground in front of Mihashi.

"Oh what?" Izumi mumbled, Hanai and Abe nodding his head.

"You got the wrong idea!" Tajima smiled wide. Mihashi flapped his mouth a few times, eyes wide. Tajima shook his head, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Nah, nah! You don't need any of that!" He said. Mihashi shook his head, nervously looked up at his teammates, then back to Tajima, sniffing loudly.

"I-" He bit his lip. "I-I-I messed up!" He said. Tajima smirked.

"_One time_," Tajima said, leaning towards Mihashi, voice low. "I was telling this guy about this _amazing_ orgasm I had right?" He said. "I didn't know it but his mom was right behind me!" He said. Horrified gasps rang out from the listeners, Tajima nodded grimly. "She chased me right out of her house with a rolled up newspaper calling me a dirty delinquent, can you believe that!"

An unspoken, resounding, 'yes we can' was felt by every player.

"W-What did you…do?" Mihashi asked. Tajima grinned.

"I learned an important lesson that day!" Tajima said, raising his pointer finger to the sky. He swung his finger downward, pointing right as Mihashi. "I learned to _not_ talk about masturbating in front of adults!"

Later, when the boys recalled this story, they would describe an all too cliché chilling breeze that swept passed them all, as if even the wind were tired of Tajima's shit.

Mihashi sniffed, rubbed at his eyes, and nodded. They both stood, Tajima patting Mihashi on the back.

"Oi, oi, I don't get it, what just happened?" Mizutani asked frantically, throwing his gaze around. Sakaeguchi and Oki grinned, sharing a glance.

"I think," Sakaeguchi said, scratching the back of his head. "Mihashi's been trying to overcompensate his masculinity with strong words, is that right?" He asked. Mihashi nodded so hard Abe almost warned him about whiplash.

"I-!" He gulped, leaning forward on his toes. His mouth hung open, tiny hands balled up into fists. "I want to be-be like you guys!" He said, squeezing his eyes shut, prepared for the worst.

Mihashi carefully, slowly, opened his eyes when he heard nothing but silence. His teammates' mouths were parted, eyes wide. Were they, shocked? About what? That Mihashi would be so stupid to wish to be their equal, most likely. Shocked that he could desire something so impossible. Shocked that he had been reaching for something he wouldn't ever grasp. Mihashi's eyes fell to his feet, hands over his burning stomach.

Hanai, of all of them, seemed the most shaken. Eyes glossy and wide, he frowned, adjusted his cap.

"Don't be stupid!" Abe yelled over Mihashi's sobs, brandishing his fist. "You don't need to swear to be like us!" His voice kept rising, despite Mihashi's obviously recoiling. Sakaeguchi did his best to calm Abe, while Tajima started up another story about his potty mouth.

The noise was far away from many of the onlookers, as thoughts began to collectively connect. New points of reference being created and small pieces of understanding were coming into place for all of them. Mihashi was different, but he was still human, like all of them.

Of everyone, Hanai had been the least willing to accept Mihashi's identity. He recognized the pitcher's skill, hardworking spirit, but his identity? But no one would let him slip up. He had more than a few bruises given to him by Tajima's forceful reminders, and he couldn't forget Abe's expression when he asked why he had Mihashi bat against him instead of Tajima. It was a look of someone completely confident in their moral righteousness over him. Hanai hadn't said it, but it was obvious what Abe thought of him, what was probably true.

Mihashi's earnest will and constant burning passion had been getting to Hanai for weeks now, and he was started to realize why.

No one was teaching Mihashi how to do this. Mihoshi had done nothing but damage any confidence he might have had and only taught Mihashi the worst men have to offer. All he had to go off of were stereotypes and toxic media tropes. For a while, Hanai had been asking himself why this girl was trying so hard to be something she's not, but something fell into place.

Hanai began asking himself why this _boy_ was trying so hard to be something he's not, and why no one had told him he didn't need to.

* * *

_Author's Notes-_

I dunno about you guys, but when I was little I was NOT allowed to swear. My parents taught me it was a _sin_ to call someone stupid, it was NOT allowed. So when I became friends with who I consider to be one of my best friends and found out that she swore and _in front of her mother_, I was pretty freaked out. I swore EXCESSIVELY trying to prove myself, spoke as dirty as possible because I thought there was something to prove. There wasn't and all I did was embarrass myself. Funny enough, I grew up and half of the words out of my mouth are swears and I'm not sorry. Can you guys imagine if Mihashi grew up and, he's still anxious all the time, but just swears like that's the only time he sounds confident? Ahhh hell yeah I am so into that.

Thanks for reading, I hope you have a fucking _nice ass_ day just shit rainbows okay, love you all. U uU

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


	3. Is it Okay?

**Chapter 2 - _Is it okay?_**

* * *

Dread was a foreign emotion to Ren.

Nervousness, worry, anxiety, he knew those feelings well, could see them in himself like muddy paints swirled and dried and cracked. Dull colors that painted his every thought, coating him in a shell with each new layer. Toxic and suffocating, he knew them well, but dread was an emotion in its own category.

Ren woke slowly, listening to the hum of the world around him. The creaking of their wood house in the light spring wind. Chirping of morning birds. The smell of spring in his nose and kiss of sunlight on his cheek, carding through his thick hair with its burning fingertips. Ren was immersed in the peace of it all.

But dread sat heavy in his heart.

He dug his hands under his pillow, hiding his eyes from the light of day. This space he was existing in was safe, he could keep it that way, he could stay like this, if he didn't move. He curled in on himself, breathing in his sheets and focusing on the weight of his body pressing into the mattress, but it was too late.

The tug of sagging breasts was so slight, bug shocked through him all the same.

Ren had recognized an odd detachment with his body long ago, a coping mechanism that never ceased to bother his athleticism. During the day his body felt numb, far away. No one had ever asked, but if they had he might describe it like living just outside himself. He might say, his body is rented property.

Small hands rubbed at his heavy eyes, prodding along his cheekbones, reminding him of himself.

He rose slowly from his mattress, registering the blinking of his phone on the side table. His breath hitched and his heart stopped and everything tensed, fully awake.

The detachment had never been intended, and by all accounts, was a horribly unhealthy way to live, considering his life style. Pain went hand in hand with hard work, but Ren found himself overlooking the sensation so that he might disconnect from all the parts of himself that made him want to hide away. Ren would pitch until he'd lost track and work himself until he couldn't stand and even then it would all feel like a dream.

There was a time, when he first started at Mihoshi, that baseball had been his salvation. The ache of practice, the pain of injuries, the burn of sun on his skin had all brought his mind back to his body in the best way. As the years went on, and his limitations became apparent, the sensation of baseball slowly leaked away. By the time Hatake stopped giving him sings, Ren's balls would leave his buzzing fingertips, cold and half asleep.

Though, in the early morning, when his soul felt oddly shaped, pressing against his flesh and bones in a desperate attempt to mold his body to fit, he remembered how much he appreciated the detachment. His skin felt too tight and his chest ached and his stomach rolled with fear of the present.

His fingers trembled, brushed over the top of his phone.

His stomach settled as much as it would, the feeling of smooth plastic under his fingertips fading and popped his cell phone open.

_**1![ V ] Abe-kun**_

Ren pressed the phone to his chest, grimaced at the site of his hands between his breasts. He grabbed his pillow, situating the sides under his arms to hold it in place over his heaving chest, phone closed and clasped between small hands.

His eyes drifted over the floorboards, the windows, light switch, light bulb, scaled the ceiling and circled back to his round, small feet. He wiggled his toes, poked at their tips with his fingers. A heavy sigh built up in his chest, pressed out between red lips. The sound of his mother bustling around the kitchen was becoming louder as the minutes ticked by and Ren's eyes dropped, shoulders sagged, until he forgot all about the phone sitting in his hands.

His mind was a blank for a moment before his opening door jammed it back into awareness.

"Ren!" His mother sighed, home phone pressed to her chest. "I've called you down for lunch at least five times now." She said, looking a bit exasperated. Ren rubbed at his eyes, squinting down at his phone to read that yes, it was in fact lunch time _not_ breakfast.

"S-Sorry, one moment." He said, throwing his sheets aside and placing his feet carefully on the ground. He tried with a heroic effort to ignore his mother's scrutinizing gaze, something that probably supposed to look worried and motherly.

"Reeen," She said. "Why do you still wear those pants?" She asked, gesturing to the large baby pink pajama pants twisted around her son's legs. Ren tensed.

"I like them." He said, eyes stuck to the wood grain beneath his bare feet. His mother's sigh grated against his every nerve.

"But don't you think they're a bit…" She delicately pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips. "_girly?"_ She said, as if she were speaking a filthy curse. Ren frowned, biting down on his lip.

"I _like_ them." He said again, body trembling, throat burning. He could see his mother shifting out of the corner of his eye.

"Mm, well lunch is ready." She said, leaving his door open as she left the room and returned to her conversation.

Ren tucked his heels up on the edge of his bed, wrapping his arms around his knees, blunt fingernails digging into soft skin.

Stuffed away in his dresser Ren had a piece of clothing for every point on the gender spectrum. His underwear drawer was split into socks, thigh highs and tights, boxers, panties, and binders. He tried to keep all the womens' and mens' clothing separate, but the difference was readily noticeable and sorting often fell to the wayside after bone crushing baseball practices and hours upon hours of studying.

It wasn't as if he needed to keep his curvy cut clothing. His parents, though confused and slow to process new information, had always supported their child. Ren was blessed to share his search for a name and pronouns with his parents, and though his troubles took quite a bit of explaining, he was always met with open arms.

Ren's fingers rubbed small circles over the soft fabric of his pink pajama pants.

He liked his skirts and his and panties and the color pink. He liked his square t-shirts and boxy pants and loose boxers. But maybe his mother was right. _Normal_ boys wouldn't have girl's clothing, then again, when had Ren ever felt normal?

His heart stopped when the phone in his hands began buzzing again. In his panic the phone slipped from his hand and hit the wall across the room, just narrowly missing the window. Ren pressed his pillow over his head, shaking and crumpling on his mattress.

If Abe ever texted twice, and he did often, Ren knew he would be angry, and he was often.

Expecting more texts, Ren didn't move from his shelter under his pillow. His shaking stilled and his breath quieted. Tajima's words drifted through his quiet mind.

"_Nah, you don't need any of that!"_

Ren counted his breathes as he listened to his thoughts. _In_, 1, 2, 3, 4, _out_, 1, 2, 3, 4.

Maybe there was a greater significance to what Tajima had told him. Ren let the pillow slip off his head, and pushed himself back into a sitting position, eyes stuck on the phone on the other side of the room. It had fallen open and wasn't flashing, but Ren knew how much Abe wanted, no, _needed_ a timely reply.

Ren threw himself off his bed and scurried over to his phone, hitting the home button and watching it light up.

_**2![ V ] Abe-kun**_

_**are you busy today**_

_**if youre busy its fine I just thought you might like to hang out**_

Before Ren even realized what he was doing, he'd tapped and sent out a quick reply asking Abe to come over. Ren had something he wanted to ask Abe, and this was the perfect moment.

* * *

Ren agonized over stuffing his clothes into his dresser and under his bed. He panicked when a half full bag of pads fell popped out of his top drawer and wouldn't go back in, and in the end he put them in his mother's room. He straightened his binder in the mirror about five times before Abe was there, standing outside his door, ringing his doorbell.

A gurgling noise replaced Ren's greeting as his mother opened the door and ushered Abe in.

"It's so good to see you Abe-kun!" She said cheerfully. "Would you like a snack?"

"No thank you." He said with a relaxed but polite smile. His eyes turned to Mihashi. "Yo." He nodded. Ren's jaw shook.

"Y-Y-Yo!" He nodded his head, pulled on the hem of his large t-shirt, baggy cargo shorts swaying around his knees. His mother smiled sympathetically, then frowned.

"Ren, you never ate your lunch." She said. Abe glared.

"You haven't eaten?" He asked. "Haven't I told you how important it is to eat regularly? Have you weighed today?" Abe spat out question after question, his solid voice bashing into Ren's thin skull over and over again.

"S-Sorry!" He said, ducking his head and clutching his shirt, readying himself for more yelling. But there was no more yelling and Ren wasn't sure when but somehow Abe and him had collected lunch and wound up on Ren's bedroom floor. Both boys had a small bowl of rice and a couple hunks of grilled fish and a side of steamed vegetables.

Ren lifted a large bite of fish to his mouth, his cheeks flushing as a large growl from his stomach broke the silence between them. He was on edge, and when Abe sighed it was enough to make Ren jump several inches.

"Look," Abe spoke very carefully, his teeth careful not to touch, his breath light. He set his rice bowl down, adjusted himself to sit criss cross. Ren watched as Abe waited, irritation evident in his twitching eyebrow, for Ren to settle and give him his attention. Ren gulped, tucked his feet under his legs, nodding to let Abe know he was listening. Abe's shoulders fell, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

"I know we're…" He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "We're _different."_ He said, frowning. Ren could feel his blood going icy, breath held tight. Abe dropped his hand back to his lap, turned his eyes back on Ren. "But you're a good pitcher. You've worked harder than probably anyone else I know, even when you're team was so. Awful to you. So I want to…" Abe grimaced. "I want to do my part. I want to work hard," Abe sucked in a breath between bared teeth. "-for you." He nodded at Ren, looking as if he had more to say, but only silence met them.

Ren fiddled with the hem of his shirt for a moment, sorting through what Abe had said.

Abe thought he was a good pitcher. Abe wanted to work hard, for _him_. But…but _why?_ Abe's voice was rough and mercilessly wrecked Ren's train of thought, but his words were oddly on point, spoken in pieces between wobbly lips.

"I want to work hard so that," His words tumbled out, jolted by hesitation. "When you have to face a stadium full of people," When he blinked, Ren couldn't ignore the newly formed gloss in Abe's eyes and the rosey blush on his tan cheeks. "When you're on the mound with nowhere to hide, I want to make sure you're not-" Abe looked like he was choking on his own words. Ren's hands had curled into fists as he leaned all of his weight forward on his knees. He nearly started to panic just before Abe began to speak again. "I want to be a safe place for you!" Abe spat the words, his expression pained, face red. Ren could feel his jaw trembling, his dry tongue scraping lazily along the roof of his mouth.

"A-Abe…kun…I-I-I don't-" Ren pressed his teeth together, feeling anxious and dizzy and uncertain. Abe shook his head, now looking desperate.

"I can't-_the whole team_ can't be a safe place for you if we don't know how to be!" Abe sucked in a deep breath, another heavy span of silence falling over him. They stared at eachother, and as the silence pressed on, they recognized. They were two people living in completely different worlds.

Ren's eyes fell first, lips parted, heart pounding. He spoke first, too. "I've never…felt s-safer than when I'm with the t-team." He said, eyes wide but words certain. Gathering up his courage, he raised his eyes, jumping when they met a very angry looking Abe.

"We're not perfect Mihashi, we're going to mess up. You know that right..?" He said. The glare had caught Ren by surprise, but now that he really looked, Abe looked relaxed, maybe even relieved. Ren nodded his head, lips pressed together. He knew his team would eventually say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing. They might make him panic uncontrollably, or hurt him enough that not even pitching sounds appealing. But there was one thing that made Nishiura safer than any place he'd ever been.

"Y-You always try your hardest!" Ren said, carefully, the corners of his lips inching upwards. Abe seemed surprised by this, but definitely not angry. "I believe that…e-even if you h-h-hurt me," Ren counted a slow breath in, then out. "You'll never do it on purpose, and you'll-you'll! Try to fix it!"

Abe opened his mouth but said nothing, just stared into Ren's eyes, nodded his head. It was strange that Abe had nothing to say, and in that way it almost made Ren more nervous than when Abe was yelling.

But something about this silence was much more comfortable, inviting. Eventually, they picked up their plates and began eating again. Abe asked about Ren's schoolwork, offering to help him if he needed it. Ren wasn't eager to spend his time with Abe doing schoolwork of all things but he'd too honestly told Abe that he was struggling in just about every subject.

They sat down, side by side, as Abe tried to help make sense of basic algebra. Ren's brain was very quickly being mushed into a perfect pudding, and as he zoned out, he remembered why he had invited Abe over in the first place.

"A-Abe-kun." He said abruptly. Abe looked up from his textbook, his mouth set in a firm line, not that Ren would look at him. "I w-w-was wondering-" He said, suddenly regretting this entire thing.

"Wondering _what?_" Abe asked, closing his book and giving Ren his full attention. Ren gulped.

"D-Do you-" His breath caught in his throat. He coughed, and pushed forward. "Do guys-is it okay for them to-to like…_pink?_" He asked, out of breath and terrified of Abe's answer.

Abe furrowed his brow, crossed his arms. "Pink?" He asked. Ren bit his lip and nodded his head.

"T-There are-" Ren tilted to one side. "Men who dress as women, but I-" He said, leaning to the other side. "I-I don't want to be a drag queen. Is it-can I still be a regular boy i-i-if I like pink?" He asked, a serious, somewhat serious pinch in his brows. Abe closed his eyes, thinking. Ren could hear his pulse in his ears as he willed himself to wait for Abe's response. He gasped a little louder than was probably necessary when Abe finally opened his eyes and spoke.

"Liking pink doesn't make you any less of a boy." He said, looking a bit confused. "I mean, I know a lot of people try to say pink is a girl's color but…" He shrugged.

Deep in Ren's heart, he agreed with Abe. He wanted to believe things like clothing and colors wouldn't keep him from being a boy, but. "But-you don't think…m-me specifically, l-l-liking pink…would make me…too girly…" Ren's voice fell quieter and quieter with every word, but Abe seemed to have finally picked up on just what he was trying to communicate.

"Listen to me, Mihashi!" He said, hitting his open hand against the floor. Ren jumped but willed his eyes to stay on Abe.

"You don't have anything to prove to anyone!"

* * *

Abe wasn't sure what to do when Mihashi started speaking. This silly boy was babbling on and on about how he believed in his team, and how he trusted them, all the while stuttering up a storm and shaking like a leaf under Abe's slightest frown. Abe didn't want to admit just how much it scared him, how much trust Mihashi was lending him so easily. And he had to wonder.

When he watched Mihashi's jolting lips and jittery hands and the way his eyes would dart around. Just what had Mihoshi done to leave Mihashi this disjointed, mess of a person?

As he approached the door to leave for the night, Abe felt electrified, a magnetic pull in his hands and his heart. Never in his life had he wanted to wrap a person up, put them in his pocket, and shield them from all possible harm. He was quick to suppress the emotion, the urge, and write it off as nothing. Before he left, as he stuffed his fee into his shoes, he was able to get one last question answered.

"Mihashi…" Abe said, turning to face his friend. Mihashi swayed on his feet nervously, waiting for Abe's question. "If I wanted to know about people like you…is there a word for it?" He asked. Mihashi stilled, his eyes suddenly focusing on Abe.

"Transgender."

* * *

_Author's Notes-_

Still building up to the actual plot? So sorry for the wait on both this fic and my other free fic. I haven't had much time to write lately because of work, but I'm doing my best to squeeze in writing time. Please do leave me a review and let me know what you think! Your input keeps me writing!

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


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